Extra is the Heir of Life and Death

I shot Annalise a look that said everything I didn't need to say aloud.

You said you took care of this?

She tilted her head, expression painted with pretend innocence, though her eyes flicked toward me with that sharp, knowing glint that made my jaw tighten. The smallest shake of her head translated perfectly, I did. Don't look at me like that.

I turned my gaze back toward the window.

He sat there, sunlight pooling across him like the universe had chosen him as its centerpiece. Silver hair tied neatly behind his head. Violet eyes glowing faintly, serene. A gentle smile—too peaceful, too content—for someone whose life should have been slowly going to hell.

The original protagonist.

The boy whose story I'd stolen thread by thread.

The one I'd paid Annalise to ruin.

And yet, there he was. Happy. Radiant. Unbroken.

Almost like fate itself had decided to spit in my face.

That asshole, acting like a bitchy ex.

My fingers tightened around the table's edge. The water in my glass trembled, disturbed by the weight of my irritation. Sacha shifted on my shoulder, her tail flicking once before curling protectively around my neck, her soft pur almost questioning.

I forced out a breath. Calm. Control. Focus.

Still, my thoughts drifted back to this same café, just a few weeks ago. Back to the day the deal was struck. The day I should've known better.

The café had always been charming in a pretentious sort of way.

Soft music, warm light, and the smell of roasted coffee beans that screamed, "We overcharge for everything here."

Across from me sat Annalise. We both smiled like old friends catching up, like this was a pleasant afternoon and not a meeting of two professional liars plotting someone's downfall.

Her smile looked flawless, bright, easy, perfectly natural.

Mine? About as convincing as a wolf wearing sheep's wool and hoping no one noticed the blood on the floor.

If anyone else had been watching, they might've mistaken her for kind. But I knew better. Annalise wasn't kind; she was capable. A magician of deception, a con artist with elegance, and a liar so skilled she could sell you your own shoes and make you thank her for the discount.

I watched the sunlight dance across her copper hair as she sipped her tea like she hadn't ruined three people's reputations that morning. She looked peaceful. Angelic, even.

A mask. Every bit of it.

And I hated that I almost admired how perfect it was.

Finally, I leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. The slice of cake in front of me sat untouched, taunting me with its perfection. "I need a favor," I said flatly.

Her brows arched, amused. "Oh? The great Sebastian, coming to me for help? Be still my heart."

I smiled thinly. "Something only a fox like you could handle."

Her hand froze halfway to her cup. Her lashes fluttered, and for the first time that day, her mask cracked, just slightly. "A… fox?" she repeated slowly. "You're calling me a fox?"

I tilted my head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Hmm. You're right. 'Bitch' suits you better."

The porcelain cup clinked against its saucer.

The look she gave me could've stripped paint off the walls.

Then, she laughed. Low and amused, like she'd just found a new toy. "Well, aren't you charming today," she purred, eyes gleaming. "Must be all that near-death experience humility shining through."

"I'll cut straight to the point," I said, ignoring her jab. "I need your help ruining Liam Luceris's life."

Her fork froze midair. "Ruin his life?" she echoed, blinking once. Then her voice went mock-horrified. "Sebastian, you can't just say that in public. People might think you're… oh, what's the word… evil?"

"I am evil," I said dryly.

"Right, right." She waved her hand lazily. "The tragic anti-hero with great hair. My mistake."

I exhaled slowly. "Annalise."

She sighed dramatically, resting her chin on one hand. "Fine. But really, Sebastian, the boy seems harmless. Why go after him? He looks like he still cries when someone yells at him."

"Mind your business," I said curtly. "Just tell me what you want in return."

She pressed a hand to her chest, gasping theatrically. "You wound me, Sebastian! Straight through the heart!"

"Annalise."

Her mock expression melted into a grin that could've sold poison as perfume. "All right," she said sweetly. "If you insist on being dull about it… I'll take a favor. Just a small one."

I narrowed my eyes. "Define small."

"Oh, you'll see," she said sweetly. "Think of it as… a future investment."

I stared at her, silent, calculating. A favor sounded harmless enough, but this was Annalise I was dealing with. The girl could sell ice to an ice mage and make them thank her for it. I was probably already being scammed right now, and the worst part was, I couldn't even tell how.

I sighed, rubbing my temple. To hell with it. If it meant wiping that fake smile off Liam's face, I'd deal with whatever trick she was planning later. "Fine," I said. "You've got yourself a deal."

"You made the right decision, Sebastian", she added, smiling like a devil.

"That's what people say right before they steal your house," I muttered.

Her grin widened. "Relax, Sebastian. I don't want your house."

"Good. I don't have one."

"See? Problem solved!"

I ran a hand down my face. "Why am I even talking to you?"

"Because you need me," she said cheerfully. "And because deep down, you enjoy this."

I glared at her. "I enjoy nothing about you."

She leaned in, smile wicked. "Then why are you smiling?"

Damn it. I was.

"…Fine," I muttered. "You've got yourself a deal."

"Wonderful." Her voice sparkled with mischief. "Then let's make it official."

Before I could ask, she reached into her ring and pulled out a neatly folded sheet of paper. Of course.

"…Please tell me that's not something that would bind me to you," I said flatly.

"Oh, it's definitely a contract," she chirped, sliding it across the table like it was dessert and not a death sentence. "Don't worry, though! I only added a few clauses. Tiny ones. Harmless."

I stared at her. "Harmless like that time you 'accidentally' sold Kent's bed to a noblewoman, and it was our first day in the academy too?"

She gasped, scandalized. "That was an honest mistake!"

"You labeled it as 'rare artifact imbued with manly energy.'"

"And it sold, didn't it?" she said, perfectly straight-faced.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I hate you."

"I know~," she sang, propping her chin on her hands and smiling like the devil himself had complimented her.

The paper sat between us, neat and deadly. I could practically feel it scheming.

Sacha poked her head out of my collar, staring at the contract with the kind of suspicion usually reserved for fire and holy water.

"Even she knows this is a bad idea," I muttered.

Annalise giggled. "She's just jealous I'm taking his spot as your favorite bad influence."

"Not possible," I said dryly. "Sacha doesn't charge interest."

"Oh, I definitely do," she said, smiling like she meant it.

I stared at the contract one last time. I already knew I'd regret this. But regret was cheap, and satisfaction was expensive and right now, I had more spite than sense.

I picked up the pen. "If this kills me, I'm haunting you."

Her grin turned razor-sharp. "Get in line."

I watched her hands as she explained, because watching Annalise work was safer than listening to her talk. She slid the pen across the paper with the theatrical grace of someone who enjoyed this way too much.

"I made this myself," she said, voice silky, eyes bright.

I stared at her. At the way the sunlight caught the corner of her grin. At the looped sigils faintly pressed into the margin of the page like tiny stars. My chest tightened in an odd, anticipatory way.

I read it properly then every clause, every ridiculous little stipulation she'd tucked in like a prankster hiding truth in footnotes. "Clause 7b: One free favor redeemable by party B from party A within three calendar years, excludes possessions that are currently living pets."

Yeah what the actual fuck.

When my fingertip hovered above the line, I felt nothing dramatic just the dry weight of the pen, the distant hum of the café. Then I signed. The ink bled into the fibers, and the world hit me like a chord.

Light exploded.

Two chains of light, one gold, warm and bright like noon, the other a cool, electric blue—snapped outward from the paper. They braided through the air with an eager hiss. The golden strand uncoiled toward Annalise, wrapping around her wrist in a sparkle that set the dust motes dancing. The blue threaded toward me and sank into my chest like water finding a lock.

I felt it catch. A band of pressure settled around the place where my ribs met, not painful but unequivocally real, an intrusion and a promise. Cold prickled at my chest, then warmth spread, settling like a seal. The sensation was intimate and clinical at once, like being handcuffed by light to someone across a crowded room.

Annalise's eyes met mine. For the first time in our conversation, there was a faint, appreciative gleam in them not the predatory playfulness, but something like respect for work well executed. She tapped the golden chain at her wrist, almost fondly.

I swallowed. The edges of my thoughts hummed, but the buzzing horror that had lived behind my eyes for weeks stuttered, then dimmed. The lock around my heart tightened in a way that promised consequence if I tore it out, and a small, ugly part of me felt relieved. Practicality over paranoia, for once.

"You did it," I said, and the words were hollow and also true.

She laughed, soft and satisfied. "Of course I did."

I flexed my fingers. The paper lay between us, now just ordinary pulp and ink, but the light still lingered like breath on my skin. I knew, with that small, certain knowledge that lived deeper than thought, that the contract had taken.